


Aces and Eights

by inscarletsilence



Series: Devil's Dance Floor [2]
Category: X-Men First Class (2011) Carpe Brewski
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-13
Updated: 2012-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-29 11:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inscarletsilence/pseuds/inscarletsilence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan plays poker with Gambit and a mysterious possible new pledge, and Scott has a confronting experience with his own imagination. Warning: some self-applied homophobic slurs because Scott refuses to deal with his feelings like a grown up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aces and Eights

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this started out as Gambit/Loki but then my slogan feels got in the way. Unbetaed because I'm a big whiney baby who doesn't like to share her toys in case people are mean to them, or something.

“Were you aware,” Scott begins, eyeing Logan over the top of Logan’s battered copy of _Without Remorse_ (good christ is he reading Tom Clancy novels, how is this man even _possible_ right now), “that the pledges are holding a monthly poker game in the basement?” The steady progress of Logan’s eyes across the page stalls for just a moment, just long enough for Scott to notice. “Apparently Gambit has been robbing freshmen blind, because he has the world’s greatest poker face.” Scott has been stradling Logan’s desk chair backwards for the past hour or so, tapping mindlessly away at his own laptop, which rests at the foot of Logan’s bed. Logan is sprawed out on the top of the sheets, book propped up on his chest and one arm behind his head. “They’ve been bitching on Facebook. This one guy lost six hundred bucks last month.”

Logan’s eyebrows twitch upwards briefly and he turns a page with his free hand. “Don’t you think that’s the sort of thing we should maybe at least _try_ to discourage?” Scott can’t see Logan’s mouth but he can tell Logan’s expression has broken into a wide, toothy grin. Logan knows that if Scott were serious about shutting down the poker games he would have gone straight to Charles, instead of spending the afternoon chuckling over the profiles of Gambit’s many victims.

“Dunno,” Logan says, his eyes not leaving the page. “Sounds like it could be fun.” Scott snorts, but his mouth has turned up into a smirk.

“You’re just saying that because you think you can beat Gambit.”

“You sayin’ I _can’t_ , Summers?” Logan looks up at Scott over the top of his paperback.

“Gambit? Maybe.” Scott answers, remembers catching a glimpse of purpled skin on Gambit’s neck and suppresses a surge of possessive jealousy. “But not this new kid. He sounds like some kind of fucking _savant_ , I dunno.”

Logan’s eyebrows snap together as he scrunches his face up into a confused scowl. “What new kid? Ain’t no new shitheads yet.”

Scott shrugs, his attention still focused on his laptop. “Not a pledge, I don’t think. Not one of ours, anyway. The kids call him ‘Loki’, but he doesn’t seem to be a student here.” Scott shrugs again, and guides his laptop screen shut with one finger. He has a sudden and unignorable desire to punch something. “Anyway, I’m gonna hit the gym, you wanna come?”

Logan grunts and folds down a dog-ear to mark his page, and replies “Sure. I’m drivin’.”

-

That evening, after determinedly _not_ staring at Logan’s reflection beside his own in the wall-length mirror of the gym while doing deadlifts, and _not_ watching Logan drive out of the corner of his eye, and definitely not suggesting casually they share a post-workout shower because hey, save the Earth and whatever, Scott is lying on his bed in a towel, mindlessly surfing Twitter when Logan comes in to his room, wearing jeans and a v-neck, his hair damp from his own, presumably solo, shower.

Logan grins at Scott and leans casually against the door frame. “Hey, you wanna check out this pledge poker downstairs?”

Scott imagines that Logan’s smirk turns a little heated, his eyes a little more dark than usual as he scrapes his gaze over his shirtlessness, surely? He quickly checks that the towel is firmly wrapped around his hips, and casts around the room for a pair of boxers. “Um,” he replies, thinking _go away, I need to get dressed and before that I need to have a fucking wank because jesus christ I’m going crazy if I think you’re looking at me like that when clearly all you want to do is suck on the faces of certain poker-playing **bastards**_ , “I guess so? I don’t really know how to play. Poker, I mean.”

Logan snorts. "Wait, pretty boy doesn't know how to play poker? There's a fuckin' surprise." Scott frowns.

"We didn't all have misspent youths full of card sharking and hunting Bambi's mom and catching fish out of fucking streams with our bare hands," he snaps, flipping Logan the finger. "So why don't you fuck off and go threaten some pledges, asshole." He stares intensely at his phone, not looking up until after Logan had chuckled and left his doorway, pulling the door closed behind him.

Scott flings his phone onto his bedside table and glares at the door, pretending not to be aware of the fact that he is tugging his towel open with one hand, even as he clenches the other into a fist, slamming it into the mattress with an almost noiseless _thump_. As cool air hits his half hard dick he hisses in a breath and closes his eyes, trying to push away the mental images of a man's back with Logan's hands in his hair, bearing his neck as Logan sucks on his skin.

The hand not fisted in his sheets slides down Scott's torso, flat over the jut of his hip bone, coming to rest on his upper thigh. Scott hears Logan's chuckle again as he imagines the way his back would have looked as he left the room: dark, wet spots on his shirt all along his spine from not towelling off properly after his shower, droplets of water gathered all along his broad shoulders, in the curve of his back, pinning the dark hair to his skin.

Scott slams his fist into the mattress again. _Can't you go five fucking seconds without being a huge fag about this, Summers?_ he asks himself, gritting his teeth together in a snarl. _So he kissed a pledge, big fucking deal?_

 _He didn't just **kiss** a pledge,_ another voice thinks back viciously. _He **made out** with a pledge. In front of you. And how many times are you going to jack off, pretending it was you instead?_ Scott groans softly in response, spreading his legs and taking his dick in his hand, tugging at it lazily. He is struck by the image of the shower that would have caused those wet spots on Logan's shirt, of his feet planted firmly apart, dark hair vivid against the white of the tub, pressing himself and his hard-on into the cool tile of the wall in front of him. Scott's dick jumps in response, and he flattens out the hand fisted into the sheets, palm down, as the thumb on his other hand flicks at the head of his now very interested dick, rubbing at the tip and feeling shocks flow through him as he drags the pad of his thumb over the ridge, again and again. He imagines Logan rocking his hips into the wall, his hands placed palm-first against it, and thinks about how a ragged moan might escape his mouth as the friction and coldness of the tile sends a shiver through him.

Panic shoots through Scott as he realises he is now fully hard, and has inserted himself into this little fantasy already, as his imagination shows his own hands running up Logan's sides to rest on the man's chest, his thumbs idly flicking at Logan's nipples as Logan grinds himself into the wall. He doesn't usually get to this part so quickly, does he? _Fuck_ , he thinks. _There shouldn't be any 'usual' about this at all._ He wonders what Logan would think if he knew Scott was in bed, fucking up into his own fist, thinking about how it would feel to nudge at the cleft of Logan's ass with his cock while sucking at the damp skin of Logan's neck. Wouldn't he be appalled? Wouldn't he growl and grab Scott by the throat and lean in close enough that his stubble was rasping against Scott's face, his breath hot on Scott's cheek, his long, thick fingers squeezing gently against Scott's neck, _shit, that's so fucking not appropraite,_ he reminds himself. _And yet you're harder now that you've pictured it, aren't you,_ comes the answer, and another shamed moan escapes Scott's mouth, as he quickens the pace of his hand around himself.

He imagines sliding a hand down Logan's soap-slicked chest, gliding gently down his firm stomach and letting the line of his hips guide him towards Logan's cock, wonders if he would grunt and press his ass back into Scott, as Scott carefully applied teeth to his shoulder along with a firm squeeze to his cock. Scott thrusts his hips up into his clenched hand and turns his head to the side, panting slightly. He pictures Logan turning around to face him in the shower, crashing his lips against Scott's and rubbing their dicks together, swallowing each other's moans.

 _"Can't keep your fuckin' hands off me, can ya_ ," _Logan snarls._

 _"P-please," Scott whimpers in response, thrusting up against him._

 _"'Please' what?"_

 _"I- I need, please -" Scott buries his face in the space where Logan's neck meets large, muscular shoulder. "I need you to touch me," he whispers. Logan snorts but wraps one of his massive hands around Scott's cock._

 _"You need this, huh?" Logan snarls, bringing a hand down to squeeze gently at Scott's balls. "You can't look me in the eye but you want me to fuck you, huh?"_

 _"Ngh," is all Scott can get out before Logan's other hand moves to cup his balls. "Ye-yes!" he cries out as Logan raises one eyebrow questioningly and finally, **finally** starts to move the hand around his dick, in quick, ragged jerks. Scott buckles slightly at the knees and Logan relents on his balls and wraps the free arm around him, bringing his face foward to whisper into his ear, hot puffs of breath making Scott arch into him and emit a low moan. Logan spins him around so that Scott's the one facing the wall now, and the arm that had been holding him up slides up into his hair from the base of his neck before Logan tugs on it firmly, pressing a cheek into the tile._

 _Scott sticks his ass out, shamelessly grinding on Logan's erection. Logan's hand resumes its brutal pace on Scott's dick and Scott's mouth hangs open as he reaches behind himself to cling to the bigger man._

 _"Look at you, fuckin' desperate for it," Scott shudders as Logan drags a hand all the way down his spine, letting it come to rest just above his ass. "Anyone'd think you were fuckin' hot for me, Summers." He feels Logan's thumb drag at one cheek, stretching him open just slightly. "Let's not even pretend I'd need to hold you down, huh? You can pretend you ain't interested in me, but you can't even rub one out without thinking about me, isn't that right?"_

 _Scott just moans in response until Logan presses against him sharply and repeats "Isn't that **right** , pretty boy?" before he nods, jamming his eyes shut. "That's what I thought," Logan whispers, pressing a finger inside him in a single quick motion. Scott arches into the intrusion, cries out a strangled "Oh, **fuck** ," _and then he comes, streaking white stickiness over his hand and stomach. He swats at himself with the towel and rolls over onto his stomach, groaning, feeling the heat from his flushed face press against the pillows. _What the fuck am I **doing** , _he thinks, all though obviously he knows the answer: _jacking off thinking about Logan, you insane freak. This has **got** to stop._

 _"I think you have a few things you need to figure out,"_ Jean had said. _"I think you're the only one who doesn't realise it."_

 _"Realise what?"_ he'd asked. She'd just smiled.

 _Yeah, realise what, jackass? That you want to fuck a dude?_ That can't have been what she meant, can it? Scott pulls his face away from the pillows and turns his head to the side, glancing at his phone. _Should I call her, maybe?_ He groans again and turns his head back to sink into the pillows. _Oh yeah, that's a stellar idea, Summers. 'Hey Jean, I know you're my ex-girlfriend and we broke up a year ago and you've completely moved on and everything but can I ask you a quick question, do you think I might be gay because I keep thinking about sucking my best friend's dick and I was wondering if you realised all those years that I was a queer and just didn't tell me?' I'm sure that'd go down **real** well. Fucking shit fuck **fuck**._

"Fuck," he says out loud, getting out of bed and attempting to push thoughts of Logan and Jean and every-fucking thing else out of his head. He pulls on his boxers, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a yellow v-neck and heads to the basement.

-

"And obviously if this little illicit operation were to come to the attention of anyone in a position of any...authority," Logan has one hand planted on the table, poker chips and shelled peanuts scattered around it, the other keeping the front two legs of Gambit's chair aloft, and he is leaning down into Gambit's face. "Obviously that would be less than fuckin' ideal for us, now wouldn't it?" He nods along with Gambit as the clearly terrified pledge tries to keep his chair steady. "Let me be very clear here."

Logan takes a small step backwards, giving Gambit a bit of breathing room, before removing his hand from the pledge's chair, letting it snap forward to rest on the ground again.

"You two can either pay me a sig _nif_ icant proportion of your takings as security, or you take this shit off campus so you don't get the fuckin' cops called on us _again_ , entirely up to you." Logan taps a pair of cards sitting face-up on the table in front of the new kid. "Aces and eights, the dead man's hand. Funny, that's _exactly_ what you'll be if I catch you around here again without the _explicit_ consent of a senior member. Now scram, the both of you."


End file.
